What I want my daughter to know one day

Mybigsecret - 18 Nov 16

Some things in life seem almost impossible for us, as loving parents, to explain to an innocent child.  We simplify and rose tint our words to protect their naïve yet questioning minds because, despite knowing that life will undoubtedly present them with hurt and pain, surely it is our duty  to protect them for as long as we can.  We brought them into this World and for our own sakes, as well as theirs, we need them to believe in goodness.  We need them to see the baddies as nothing but cartoon characters whilst they stare in wonder at the money left under their pillow by the tooth fairy.

For this reason, as the tears roll tirelessly down my cheeks and my daughter asks me “what’s wrong mummy?”, do I tell her the usual “mummy is just tired”?

Or do I tell her about the bad man?

I decide that a ridiculously dumbed down version of the truth is an appropriate enough explanation for now.  I’m upset rather than tired and I don’t want her to think she is the cause in any way, shape or form.

“A long time ago, long before you were born, there was a bad man.  He hurt mummy and sometimes I remember and it makes me feel sad”.

“But mummy, why did he hurt you?”

I can’t answer that question.

In fact, there are mountains and mountains of questions that I can’t answer.  They have swirled around in my head all year like burnt Autumn leaves blowing randomly in the wind.  2016 has been the year my past caught up with me.  Memories buried for over a decade ago have furiously bubbled to the surface and released themselves as tears and confused emotions.

How do I explain that she must walk away from bullies and just ignore them, yet I stayed with one for years? Or that she must open up to us, friends or her teacher if she is upset or worried, yet I never told anyone of my situation.

As my daughter grows and blossoms into a strong, beautiful, witty, funny and caring human, I know that I need to equip her with the tools to fiercely protect this essence of her being.  I need to teach her to respect herself and not let anyone chip away at her self esteem.  I need to help her fly away from hurt and pain back to a safe place where friends and family will protect and look out for her.  Above all, I need to help her stay strong.

To do this, I have to look back at those dark times and find some answers.  I need to understand why I never asked for help despite having a close, loving family and supportive friends. Why I stayed for so long and let him subject me to awful mental and physical abuse when I could have just walked away. My gorgeous little girl so full of love and life, I have to do this for you.

The most vivid memory is probably the first time it happened, when I was 23 years old.  He was jealous and moody, but I honestly never believed he could be violent. We had a fierce argument about something or other, and I threatened to leave – the red rag to the bull.  Suddenly his whole demeanour changed, the eyes began to glaze over and the face became contorted into one of angry rage.  He barricaded the door, pushing me back every time I tried to escape, shouting and screaming at me.  After a while I realised it was futile to antagonise him further – I wasn’t physically able to leave that room whilst he was in this mood – so I tried to calm him down. Maybe I started crying, I really don’t remember.

After some time he had calmed down enough to let me out of the room to go to the toilet.  He was also emotionally drained by this point and I left him lying on the bed.  As I left that room I was faced with a choice – the toilet or the stairs.  I chose the latter and sneaked down slowly and silently with delicate little footsteps. I nearly reached the bottom when the bedroom door upstairs opened.  He had heard me.  I don’t remember much about what happened next, but I will never forget the sensation of my hair being wrenched out from the roots as he pulled me back from the bottom step to the top.

Now I was trapped.

I stayed for what seemed like hours, talking and reasoning with him, waiting for the moment he was calm enough to let me go.

It’s difficult to describe the emotions I felt as I sat alone in my car driving home.  I was most definitely numb, in state of both shock and high emotional distress.  How could I tell anyone what had just happened? I felt so humiliated and embarrassed. However, by the time I arrived home I almost felt a sense of relief.  He had crossed the line enough that I could finally leave without remorse or guilt. I had a good excuse to start afresh and maybe meet “The One”. I could finally follow my dreams after years of being with someone I no longer loved and barely respected.

So, why did I decide to stay? I think it boils down to a few words – low self esteem, a deep fear of starting afresh and being on my own and my need for an emotional crutch.  Bizarrely, this emotional crutch took the form of someone who knew my fears and weaknesses so well that they became a way to manipulate.  This person didn’t want me to be the strong, intelligent, beautiful woman he had wooed all those years earlier. That threatened him.  He didn’t want to give me the freedom to fly away from his nest. He wanted to clip my wings.

As I look back now on those years of domestic abuse, I see someone who eventually faced her fears and managed to start a new life. I look back as someone who hit rock bottom but found a tiny seed of strength from deep within that grew and grew. I look back as a survivor.

My little girl, if I can give you one piece of advice for the future it would be this – never stop believing in yourself and always walk away from the bullies with your head held high.

Mybigsecret

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